


A Light So Bright

by weasleysweaterweather_archive



Series: Warm Ups [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: First Kiss, For a while anyway, Grantaire still loves him though, Jehan is a little snitch, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oblivious Enjolras, Pining Grantaire, Smoking, You'll have to find out, in a bathroom, it's less weird than it sounds, mentions of alcohol use, or it's just as a weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-16 01:59:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13626186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weasleysweaterweather_archive/pseuds/weasleysweaterweather_archive
Summary: “Apollo, stressed?” He doesn’t mean to say it. He’s been calling Enjolras that in his head for months now. Enjolras, who burns so bright it hurts and who seems to control everything in his own world. Including Grantaire's heart.





	A Light So Bright

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Les Mis fic. I hope you enjoy.

It’s cold outside, for summer. Grantaire is standing on the back step of Jehan and Montparnasse’s house, Enjolras beside him. They’re both smoking, the thrumming music from inside vibrating the wood beneath them. The sun is just barely hanging on to the horizon, but the sky is still stained in orange and pink. Enjolras is wearing Courf’s sweater, which hangs off his narrow shoulders. He has the sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms. Grantaire loves him, then.

 

Enjolras’ cigarette is almost gone. The cherry glows bright as he breathes. Grantaire watches him, the gentle arch of his brow, the curve of his lips. He is softer, here in the hazy evening light. Everything is warm, blurred around the edges.

 

“Last time you told me that you don’t smoke,” Grantaire says, leaning on the railing of the deck. He lights up another cigarette, his second, as Enjolras smothers the remaining embers on the butt of his.

 

“Only when I’m stressed,” Enjolras replies, with a shrug. He’s looking out into the yard, where the low sun casts everything in a dusky shadow. His face is half illuminated. 

 

“Apollo, stressed?” He doesn’t mean to say it. He’s been calling Enjolras that in his head for months now. Enjolras, who burns so bright it hurts and who seems to control everything in his own world. Including Grantaire’s heart. His face feels hot. He nearly drops the cigarette as he brings it to his mouth.

 

Enjolras laughs, a gentle sound. Grantaire is unsure if he’s ever heard it before. His laughter is so often bitter. Hurtful. “Apollo?”

 

“He’s the sun god. A force of nature, if you will.” The smoke fills his lungs. It slows the thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears.

 

Enjolras shakes his head. He taps his fingers against the railing of the deck. “Do you have another cigarette?”

 

Grantaire is smoking his last one. He takes it from between his lips and hands it over. “We can share.” Enjolras takes it gratefully. Grantaire watches the rise and fall of his chest. It’s small, barely noticeable under Courf’s baggy sweater. His heart aches to put a hand there, below his throat, to feel his breath and the pumping of his blood and the warmth of his skin. Instead, he takes the cigarette when Enjolras hands it back.

 

“Am I cruel to you, Grantaire?” Enjolras pulls his sleeves down. They cover his hands. He meets Grantaire’s eyes, piercing blue against hazel.

 

“No, or I guess… yeah, sometimes. Why are you asking?”

 

“Jehan said. That I can be. And I’ve been thinking about it. I never wanted to make you feel bad. But you can be so argumentative, and I get so  _ angry _ . And… Jehan told me that you have feelings for me?”

 

“Oh,” is all Grantaire can say. He swallows. He’s not angry with Jehan, he’s always wanted Enjolras to know anyway. But something still feels tight beneath his ribs, like he might burst open, crack and pour everything messy inside him into the space between them.

 

“Is that true?”

 

Grantaire is looking away now. He knows what’s coming, the rejection. His heart feels too big for his body. “Yes.”

 

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry if I’ve treated you badly.” It feels too formal to be sincere. Enjolras is fidgeting, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater.

 

“It’s fine. I’m going to go inside now, okay?” He drops the cigarette, only half smoked, and stomps on it until it stops glowing. Then he turns and goes inside.

 

Grantaire doesn’t talk to Enjolras for the rest of the evening. They talk and laugh with their friends, who are all drinking, and everything is normal except there’s no arguing. No lingering glances. No fluttering in his chest. Just that tightness, not growing and not shrinking, just staying.

 

It’s nearly midnight when Grantaire runs directly into Enjolras. He’s coming out of the bathroom, and they’re alone in the upstairs hallway. He murmurs a quiet excuse me, and tries to slip by. Enjolras grabs his arm.

 

“R. Can we talk?” 

 

The tightness moves up, towards his throat. Grantaire feels his eyes burning. “Enjolras-” the name feels wrong in his mouth.

 

“Please.”

 

Grantaire nods. He does not pull his arm from Enjolras’ grip. They both look down the hallway towards the stairs, to look for friends coming. Their laughter can be heard from downstairs, the loud music, Courfeyrac’s slurred singing. There is time.

 

They duck into the bathroom. Enjolras shuts the door and leans against the sink. His brows are furrowed. “I didn’t mean to scare you off earlier.”

 

Grantaire is drinking in the words, the hand around his wrist, the concerned expression, but he still shakes his head. “You didn’t. Don’t worry about it. Is that all you wanted to say?”

 

“No, I wanted to know if you still had those feelings. For me. Because-”

 

“I’m not going to act on them, okay? You don’t need to worry about anything changing. You’ve got your causes and your protests and I’ve got my art and nothing needs to be any different because you know how I feel about you. I should go downstairs.” Grantaire reaches for the door handle.

 

“I want to kiss you,” Enjolras says, and it echoes in Grantaire’s ears and his chest and fills his stomach with something warm and all he can do is nod  _ yes, a thousand times yes, for as long as you want, do anything you want a _ nd then Enjolras’ mouth is against his and it is everything he expected and a complete shock at the same time and he is shattering so he holds on tight, wraps his arms around Enjolras’ neck and melts.

 

Enjolras’ lips are soft, and they fit so perfectly against Grantaire’s. Everything is good, and right, and when Enjolras pulls away all of the tightness is gone and that warmth is spreading everywhere, something like alcohol in his veins that makes his fingers buzz.

  
“Oh,” Grantaire says. And Enjolras laughs. And everything is in his place. Enjolras takes his hand, and brings him out of the bathroom and they go back downstairs. Enjolras whispers something that is probably a  _ we’ll talk tomorrow?  _ Grantaire nods even though he doesn’t really know what he’s answering because his ears are still full of his heartbeat. They sit in their respective spots, Enjolras beside Combeferre and Courfeyrac across the room, and nothing has changed but everything is different.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've come this far I hope you've enjoyed my little drabble. I'm sorry for any OOC moments or bad characterisation, this is me just trying to feel out the characters. I hope I will improve with time. Please comment, feedback is always good or even just a keysmash makes my day. Thank you for reading <3


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